


"That's What Best Mates Do!", or: 7 Times Dean Chose Seamus over Being a Hero

by ThestralsNest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThestralsNest/pseuds/ThestralsNest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years, Dean had many chances to get involved in the mysteries of the Wizarding World in a big way, but he unwittingly passed by them all for a simple, single reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year with the chocolate frog cards and the sinking steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work on ao3 and coincidentally the first time I write an HP fanfiction. I hope it manages to entertain you somewhat!

"Whatche doin'?" Seamus said, leaning against the back of the couch to peek at what Dean was working on.

"Nothing," Dean put his quill down. His Transfiguration essay was not going anywhere. "Are you done with Potions?"

"Nah, gave up on that hours ago," Seamus shrugged. "Wanna go hide Neville's Remembrall again? He found it last night," He said as he started rocking on his feet excitedly.

Dean laughed quietly. "Any place in mind?" He got up.

Seamus leaned in to whisper; “We could transfigure it?”

“Are you sure you can do that?” Dean questioned worriedly. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

On the magic level, Seamus was not unlike a puppy trying to walk on polished floors; doing his best, but ultimately just sliding and falling all over the place and producing the occasional explosion in the process. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, just...kind of irreparably clumsy.

“Really, I’m up for pranks, but we shouldn’t break Neville’s stuff.” He said when Seamus placed the Remembrall on a table draped in red and gold velvet cloth.

Seamus moved his wand quickly but paused before any spell rolled out of his mouth, probably considering Dean’s words.

“Yeah, y’know...” He put his wand down. “Poor bloke doesn’t deserve that,”

Dean smiled.

“I’m still hiding it though,”

Dean’s smile grew wider. He got up to follow Seamus around in order to look for a proper spot. They eventually settled on sitting it behind a large curtain next to the fireplace. They laughed together and settled lazily on the wide couch once the deed was done.

“I’m hungry,” Seamus said, patting his stomach.

Dean hummed and looked around. No one was back from dinner yet. They’d eaten earlier, right after Flying lesson, but Seamus’ stomach was insatiable –so was his—and he knew dinner times were longer now due to the 5th years’ exams. “I reckon the Great Hall still has some food out,”

“Come with?”

“Sure. Food sounds good,”

Seamus jumped to his feet and they ventured out of the common room, through the complicated mess that was the Hogwarts stairways. They were getting the hang of it, although Dean had to seldom help Seamus jump over trick stairs. Seamus was never really happy about it and Dean was pretty sure that bowing, taking his hand and calling him ‘princess’ did not help the embarrassed blush that tinted his cheeks every time.

“Sod off,” He mumbled, accepting the hand offered and skipping over the sinking step.

Dean didn’t let go of his hand right away, making sure that Seamus had regained all his balance first. They continued their way down to the Great Hall, Seamus listing all the food that he was going to eat –assuming that there was any of the good stuff left at this time.

On their way, they met Harry and Ron who were talking about joining Hermione in the library for research. Dean hadn’t pegged either of them to be so invested in their studies but with the amount of time they’d been spending in the library, he could only say that he’d made a wrong assumption. He shrugged it off.

They were soon sitting down at the Gryffindor table. Dean looked over at other tables. There were a few students eating or studying at the Slytherin table, Ernie was reading a parchment with Justin heeled at his side at the Hufflepuff table and the Ravenclaw table was completely silent despite being the most crowded.

Dean supposed they should have brought books of some kind to fit in, but Seamus obviously didn’t think so as he heaved a relieved sigh and took two mini-meatpies and a copious amount of chicken to his place. Dean settled for some salad and two cookies. By his plate, he saw a stack of chocolate frog cards on the table.

“Whose are those?” He asked Seamus.

“Dunno,” Seamus shrugged, munching on a mushroom.

Dean went through the cards. “Whoever it is, they’re keen on Dumbledore. There’s like 10 Dumbledore cards in there,” He put the cards in his pocket, making a mental note to post something on the notice board about it.

“Finnigan!” Someone called from across the room. Dean turned at the same time as Seamus did.

“Is it true that you blew up the lemon in Charms today?”

Draco Malfoy was laughing before anyone even answered him. Ravenclaws shot death glares from their table, but with the blessings of his upper classmates, Draco continued to laugh loudly.

“His cauldron melted last week too. He’s doing us a favour though, ‘cause he’s losing all the house points Granger gets them with her sucking up. I’d HATE to have someone like that in OUR house.”

Dean grabbed Seamus’ shoulder and forced him to turn around and stop listening to Draco’s mocking voice. Seamus was scowling.

Oliver Wood had looked up from his parchment.

“Don’t listen to him Seamus,” Wood said, trying to be comforting. “I mean, sure, you don’t know how to keep a pancake from burning right now, but it doesn’t mean you’ll never be able to transfigure it into a chair.”

Seamus mustered up a smile, but Dean didn’t miss its sad crease around the cheek. He ate quickly, gobbling down his food the same way Dean’s step-father did when he was late to a morning meeting

Dean wasn’t finished eating when Seamus got up, told him he’d see him later and left.

“You should go with him,” Wood told him. “Pro’lly needs a friend right now.”

His food wasn’t done, he hadn’t even taken a bite of the cookie he’d been eyeing since he got to the Great Hall, but he decided that Wood’s words made sense.

He took the short pile of chocolate frog cards out of his pocket and replaced them with his two cookies. He then instructed Wood to give the cards back to whoever had been sitting at his place before him and got up to run after Seamus.

When Dean found him on the way to the Common Room. It was quite a sight and he had trouble restraining his laughter. Seamus was waist deep into a step; trying to find purchase on the higher step and pull himself out. He was mumbling curses in a choked up voice. Dean could imagine Seamus’ legs paddling about like a duck underneath the staircase.

Smiling at the adorable flailing Seamus was doing, he walked to his friend, grabbed him under the arms and pulled. Seamus managed to wiggle himself out and stood up, looking ashamed.

“Come on, laugh as much as you want,” Seamus dusted down his clothes aggressively. “I’m such a joke,”

Dean sighed and looked down at Seamus. The boy was still avoiding his gaze.

“I lost 5 points last week when I asked Snape a question.” Dean said. “Neville lost points for losing control of his broom and Ron lost points for mis-transfiguring a cockroach. Hell, Draco lost points for Slytherin when he tried to touch the lizard too early. The only class no one loses points in is Herbology because Mrs. Sprout is too nice to punish anyone.”

This didn’t seem to convince Seamus. “Y’know, I still...”

“What about when you answered that question on Cornish Pixies? Quirrel gave you 10 points!” Dean smiled gently. The corners of Seamus’ lips were tugging up. “’Sides, don’t worry about those Slytherin loons, you could lose all our house points and I’d still be your friend.”

Seamus swung on his feet. “Thanks Dean,” He sniffled. He made a move forward, hesitant at first, and went in for a hug.

Dean didn’t really hug his friends and, from the way the arms around him hesitated in the proper pressure to apply, it was clear to him that Seamus didn’t either. He clapped Seamus’ back awkwardly and chuckled.

“Whenever you need it, mate.”

When he let go, Seamus wiped his face down and passed a hand through his sandy hair.

“Alright, that’s enough soppiness for today.” He rubbed his eyes. “Let’s go back to the Common Room,”

Dean smiled and nodded. He could only catch glimpses of Seamus’ smile as they were walking, which was a shame because he was more than happy to be the cause of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year with the spiders and the banshees.

Seamus liked joking around.

To be fair when your model upper-housemates were Fred and George, it wasn’t hard to grow up with a trickster side. Though Seamus was too good-natured to make anyone upset over a joke, he sometimes set one thing too many on fire. Like Lavender’s hair, or Ron’s pyjamas.

When Ms. Noris was found petrified that year, Seamus had thought it a hilarious prank. Filch gave the students so much trouble sometimes that Seamus wasn’t in any way surprised that someone would try to freak him out by petrifying his precious cat.

Dean disagreed; he’d seen the look on the teachers’ faces. Plus, the whole writing in blood thing was never a good sign, at least in the Muggle world. Neville told him that he had mentioned the Chamber of Secret in a letter to his Grandmother. Since then, her letters had doubled, tripled even, and each word was drenched in worry.

It wasn’t until after Collin Creevey’s petrified body was found that Seamus’ behaviour changed. He became awfully alert and the jokes stopped overnight. Dean didn’t really think much of it at first. Everyone was terrified of what could happen next, but he soon realised that Seamus was not scared for his own sake.

Seamus complained a lot about how annoying it was when teachers accompanied them to class or when prefects and head boys guided them to the Common Room early. However, whenever the situation involved Dean going anywhere by himself, Seamus would be first in line to follow him and do everything he criticised teachers for.

“Let’s wait till Percy goes back,” Seamus whispered to him in the library. “Wandering around the halls alone and taking pictures of flowers and butterflies like Collin’s gotta be the maddest idea right now.”

“Seamus, it’s late. We’re together, nothing’s going to happen. Let’s just go. I’m done,”

They’d been studying for a good 3 hours and every time Dean started to pack his books, ready to head back up to the Gryffindor tower, Seamus had given him various excuses for him to stay. He had stopped writing anything on his parchment hours ago and was just eyeing Percy Weasley now. The Gryffindor prefect was reading on the table next to theirs.

“Just ask him then,” Dean said. Percy didn’t seem like he was going to move any time soon.

“No!” Seamus interjected when he saw Dean start to get up and move towards Percy. “Let’s...yeah, you’re right. Let’s go. We don’t need him.”

They took their bags, Seamus glancing over at Percy, hoping the older boy would see them get up and offer to escort them. Alas, Percy was completely absorbed in his book. Dean couldn’t help but laugh at how prideful Seamus was. They left quietly and didn’t take any of the dark shortcuts they usually followed.

Seamus had let it slip once or twice that if they didn’t bring attention to themselves, they might just pass under the radar of whoever was attacking the Muggle-borns.

Seeing as Seamus was half and half, as he liked to say, Dean could only assume ‘we’ meant ‘you’. It probably wasn’t so obvious to other students because they spent most of their time together anyway, but the way Seamus refused to let him out of his sight bothered him. While he did appreciate how protective his friend was, the guy had basically transformed in his own personal guard dog, even though, by all standards, he was still a round little cub that could barely hold its own against an angry Niffler.

They could hear water running down the windows and thunder rumbling outside. Seamus looked nervous.

“I heard MacMillan say it was a dragon,” Seamus said, forcing a roar of laughter. “Yeah, a dragon. ‘Cause that’s easy to conceal in a castle!”

“Could be.” Dean shrugged. “A small one,”

Seamus rolled his eyes. They turned into another deserted hallway.

“Dragons don’t petrify people, Dean.”

“Maybe some do,” He said. “Is there a Medusa-dragon?”

Seamus frowned. “Dr. Medusa? The quack advertising phoney essences in the Prophet?”

“Never mind,” Dean could see the portrait of the Fat lady. He stopped when he saw a line of spiders that was crawling on the floor, climbing onto the wall and into a crack in the rocks.

“Ugh, spiders. They’re everywhere.” Seamus sidestepped.

“You reckon there’s a big one,” Dean said, still looking down at the spiders. “Maybe their Queen-spider is the Chamber’s monster?”

Seamus shivered next to him. “Stop that,”

“I think I read something in—”

“I don’t want to think about giant spiders, Dean.” Seamus tugged at Dean’s sleeve. “Keep the talk for Lockhart tomorrow,”

“We have Defence against the Dark Arts tomorrow?”

“First thing in the morning,” Seamus was pulling his sleeve harder. “Hope we talk about Puffskeins or som’thin’.” Dean glanced one last time at the spiders and let Seamus lead him away and into the portrait hole.

They indeed had a Defence against the Dark Arts class in the morning. Lockhart was as energetic as ever. It was the day he’d been waiting for; he could finally promote his book; Break with the Banshee now that the subject of Banshee had finally popped up in their manual.

Seamus was on the wrong page, but he was reading it with focused eyes as if it were the right one. He hadn’t said anything since they’d sit down and Lockhart announce the lesson plan for that day –if it could be called a plan...or a lesson.

“Shay,” Dean whispered. “It’s page 202.”

“I know,” He said without any explanation.

“You’re on page 204,” Dean insisted.

“I know that too,” Seamus kept his eyes down on his book. Lockhart was pulling down a scroll with the picture of a Banshee on it. It was looking at the class with soulless eyes. Dean saw a few girls shiver and turn their heads away. Warranted, the picture was a scary one. The Banshee was screaming without a sound, then looked a little put-off when no one dropped dead. Lockhart himself jumped a few times when he caught glimpses of the picture from over his shoulder while he was speaking.

Dean snickered at him.

“That bloke defeated a Banshee right, yet he’s scared of his own—” Dean turned to Seamus. His words had fallen on deaf ears for the latter had his head planted in his arms on his desk. “Seamus?”

“I’m okay,”

One second he was staring at the back of Seamus’ head and the next he was raising his hand boldly.

“Yes, Mr. Thomas?”

“Sir, Seamus is not doing well.”

Lockhart interrupted his story. He brought his hand that was pretending to hold a sword, down. The whole class turned to them. Seamus was hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Tell me your problem, son.” Lockhart started to walk to the back of the class where they were sitting. “And I shall find a remedy for you,” He threw them a flirty smile.

“I think he should go see Madam Pomfrey instead.” Dean grabbed Seamus by the shoulders in a protective gesture. “I mean, I’m sure he doesn’t want to disrupt your lesson, sir.”

He saw Ron puff out in laughter a few rows in front of them.

“Very well then,” Lockhart looked around the class. “Mr. Thomas please walk Mr. Finnigan to the hospital wing.”

Lockhart started speaking of Banshee tales again, moving his arms with grandeur. Dean made Seamus stand and walk with him out of the classroom. Seamus’ face was pale and he did look a bit sick.

“What’s up, Shay?”

He looked up at Dean as if noticing for the first time that he was there. “Banshees are bloody terrifying!” Seamus said.

Dean chortled. “Yeah ,well, they aren’t supposed to be pretty,”

“Eloise Midgen isn’t pretty. A Banshee is downright horrifying.” They started climbing up the stairs to the hospital wing and Dean saw that some colours had come back to his friend’s face. “Saw one in the pond near me grandma’s house, I did.”

“Really?”

“Long black hair, No skin on the face and mouth wide open,” Seamus shook his head to chase the image he’d formed. “And it wasn’t even doing anything. I don’t think it saw me,”

“You were lucky,”

“Yeah. I was completely stunned, my grandma had to get me and run,”

“Stunned.” Dean frowned. “Hey, what if the—”

Seamus stopped. They were only a few meters away from the door. “I know what you’re thinking, and don’t say it.”

“They don’t petrify people, but—”

“Dean.”

“What if they’re like young Mandrake Roots and instead of making people faint, they make them petrified?” Dean was going through the possibilities in his head and things were clicking together. “I heard there was water around Ms. Norris and around Colin. Don't they live around water? And a Banshee has hands, right? So maybe it could’ve written...”

He turned to Seamus and he could see the colour drain from his face again.

“Sorry,” He said quickly. “I’m probably wrong. Let’s go lie down,”

It was hard to keep more theories from forming in his mind, even as Mme Pomfrey started fussing over Seamus who couldn’t really explain what was wrong exactly and ended up babbling.

“In light of the recent events, Mr. Thomas, I think it would be safer if you stayed here until a responsible teacher comes to escort you to your next class.” She said. “I can’t believe Professor Lockhart would send two defenceless students alone in the castle at times like these,” She sounded exasperated.

She showed Seamus to a bed on which he gladly accepted to lie down. Dean sat down next to it. Seamus had already closed his eyes, feigning sleep. His face looked better now but the frown in his brow told Dean that the Banshee still hadn’t left his brain.

Dean waited a good 20 minutes, until Seamus’ breathing was somewhat even, before he got up to tiptoe to Mme Pomfrey’s office.

“Miss?”

“Dear boy, you should be resting.” She was sitting at her desk and put her quill down.

“I just have a question,” Dean said, walking to the Matron’s desk. “Can I ask it?”

“By all means, you can. What is your question?” She smiled softly and it relaxed him somehow.

“Can a...Banshee…stun people...or petrify them?”

Mme Pomfrey looked at him with worried eyes. “Oh, if every student in the school had your brains, Mr. Thomas.” She sighed and picked up her quill again. “I don’t think they do. They are more akin to Mandrake roots in that way. They merely make their victims faint when they’re young.”

“Oh...” Dean bowed slightly to excuse himself out of the room, but Mme Pomfrey’s voice stopped him.

“I understand you are afraid, Mr. Thomas. And rightly so, I must admit.” Her voice was oddly close to trembling. “But you mustn’t look for answers that could put you in trouble.”

He nodded, head hanging low. “Sorry,”

“There is nothing to be sorry about.” She said quickly. “Now go watch over your friend. He needs you just as much as you need him right now.”

Dean nodded again, smiling this time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year with the grumpy knight and the password list.

"Seamus, let's go to Honeydukes and rest for a bit, alright?"

Sparkly eyes turned to Dean and in a matter of seconds they were inside Honeydukes sucking on Sugar Quills with Neville marvelling at his candy-apple beside them.

“You think Sirius Black might be around here?” Seamus chuckled, pointing at the wanted poster on the Honeyduke’s notice board. It seemed out of place amongst the old ads for Bertie Bott’s new flavours of beans, the colourful poster for caramel newts and all kinds of other pictures of sweets.

Dean laughed, but Neville was shuddering. “You don’t think he could, could he?”

“There’s enough Dementors around to scare off any wanted criminal,” Dean said, trying to sound comforting, but his words only served to make Neville tense up.

“’S’not like he’s after us,” Seamus said. “Jus’ don’t get in his way.”

Neville looked nervous still and as much of a scaredy-cat as he could be, Dean had a hard time pin-pointing why he was so on the edge. Everyone was terrified, but Neville...Neville was more than terrified. Dean gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder to encourage him.

The rest of the afternoon was spent amiably, going from shop to shop to explore the possibilities Hogsmeade offered them. Seamus ate so many sweets Dean was pretty sure they’d have to deal with the fallout of the sugar-high well into the night.

Back in the castle, Seamus trying to balance a big pile of chocolate frog boxes in his hand as well as a few sugar quills, they decided to go put their purchase down in their room before going to the Great Hall for dinner.

However, they found the portrait to the Gryffindor common room empty.

“Where is he?” Grumbled Seamus.

“Ha!” They heard from somewhere above their head. Sir Cadogan was probably in one of the paintings hanging higher up on the wall. “Someone is trying to pierce through my defence. We shall see who will hold the victory.” The knight appeared in the portrait.

“Baronduki” Seamus said decidedly, laying a hand on a sugar quill close to tumbling down to the floor.

“Where are you taking all these provisions? Drop your cargo, son, or you may not be able to fight the evils of this world. One of the lads I had the pleasure of fighting with learnt that lesson the hard way...”

Seamus was clearly displeased and he did not seem like he wanted to hear what was sure to be an epic tale starring Sir Cadogan.

“Baronduki,” Seamus said again, ignoring the portrait. Sir Cadogan pulled up his helmet to show his face and leaned onto the pommel of his sword.

“In my time, lads, Gryffindors ate when they deserved! When they knew they’d accomplished great deeds and glorified their family’s name!”

Dean and Seamus looked at each other. “Well, now, we eat when we’re hungry. Or when we want to.” Dean said. Sir Cadogan hollered and challenged him with his sword.

Seamus was boiling. “Baronduki! Baronduki!”

Sir Cadogan gave a haughty huff and let the portrait swing open.

“I can’t deal with this lunatic,” Seamus said, climbing up the stairs to their dormitory. Dean followed, picking up a choco frog box that had fallen from Seamus’ grip.

“The Fat Lady will be back soon, I’m sure.”

Seamus threw the sweets on his bed. “When they’re eejits you make ‘em plant carrots, you don’t give ‘em a security job.”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll never open the door for us ever again.”

Dean dumped his own jute bag full of sweets on Seamus’ bed and they left with growling stomachs.

They came back late that night after getting sucked in a study session led by Percy Weasley who wanted to be the best head boy ever by teaching the younger students until their eyes rolled to the back of their heads with exhaustion. The Creevey brothers had beckoned Dean over and asked for clarification about a particular point in Transfiguration and he got wrapped into the study group. Seamus, although he tried to run away, did not have more luck.

When they left, after Percy had escorted the first years back to the Common Room leaving Seamus and Dean in charge of cleaning the ink stains and banishing crumpled parchments, they were both tired and could only think of the mountain of magical sweets waiting for them in the dormitory. Unfortunately, when they arrived at the entrance, Sir Cadogan was waiting for them.

“So I plant carrots, eh?”

Seamus shifted nervously in front of the portrait. “Ba-baronduki.”

“En garde! Scoundrels, no one insults the great Sir Cadogan and gets away with it alive!”

He proceeded to swing his sword around blindly seemingly unaware that it would never reach Seamus and Dean who stood in front of the portrait, unimpressed.

“Baronduki.” Dean repeated, finding it more productive to try and get inside the Common Room than argue with the portrait of a mental medieval knight.

They said the password several more times, until the knight, unhappy that he could not attack them and defend his honour, left the picture altogether. Dean and Seamus spent a few minutes returning to the staircases were they thought they could find him in another painting, but they quickly gave up.

“Let’s wait then,” Dean said when they were back to the empty portrait that hid the Gryffindor Common Room.

Seamus growled. “Who told him what I said?”

“I don’t know.” Dean said, sitting down to lean against the wall. Seamus joined him. The floor was cold. “Another portrait? Or maybe a ghost? You never know who’s listening.”

“I bet it’s that Sapworthy portrait that babbled to—”

“Seamus.” Dean said sternly. He waited for Seamus to look at him before he pointed at the picture on the wall opposite from them. The characters had stopped watching their Quidditch game to lean forward. One of them had something that looked like a funnel against his ear. Dean quickly understood that it was a megaphone he’d turned over.

“Yeah, okay.” Seamus said.

They didn’t speak for a long time after that. Seamus kept catching himself whenever his head was falling forward. Dean watched him straighten up and clear his throat, but the fatigue got the best of him and he was soon nodding off again.

Dean didn’t find himself to be so tired, but seeing Seamus getting sleepier made him sleepy too. Seamus shook himself up a few times, glancing at the still-empty picture next to them, until he gave up. Without a word he cuddled up against Dean and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Wake me up when that git comes back,”

Dean chuckled, rolling his shoulder to make it more comfortable for Seamus. He was warm and his hair tickled Dean’s cheek. He had the urge to find a blanket and cover Seamus with it, but that would require getting up and disturb the sleeping boy –besides he wasn’t sure where to find a blanket without accessing the Common Room.

Minutes passed, then half an hour, and soon, it was almost time for curfew. Dean was wondering what everyone was doing at this hour. His eyelids were getting heavier and his head had come to rest against Seamus’. The other boy had snuggled up closer. Light and regular puffs of air were warming up his neck. Dean had been awake and thinking in this position for more than half an hour by the time he finally fell asleep.

“Did you forget the password too?”

Dean woke up and was immediately startled by the light of a torch that made him squint. Seamus mumbled something next to him, but the mix of sleep, grogginess and strong Irish accent made it unintelligible.

Neville’s wand was emitting a bright light that was blinding both Seamus and Dean.

“Neville, your wand.” Dean said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Sorry! Nox!” He fumbled with his wand. With the bright light gone, Dean could see that Neville was holding a piece of parchment. “I can’t remember which one it is.”

“Baronduki,” Seamus muttered as he stood up shakily. Dean’s shoulder was cold and aching now. His neck was sore and he massaged it with his right hand as he got up.

Neville was looking at his list. “It’s not on here,” He said. “Is it new?”

Seamus snatched the paper out of his hand and read carefully. “Pro’lly because that’s Divination notes, Neville.”

Dean snorted a laugh. Neville took his paper back and read it over again, looking surprised.

“You really should be more careful,” Dean said. “You don’t want Slytherins to get in,”

Neville looked at him with wide eyes, as if he’d just committed a horrible crime.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they won’t.” Seamus spoke up. “Even if they do, someone’ll take care of their case before they can even see the chimney.”

Neville nodded. He seemed to think of something and looked up at Seamus questioningly. “If you have the password, why were you taking a nap outside?”

“We just fancied a nap in the cold, empty hallway,” Seamus said. Neville looked between them in bewilderment. “No. No. I accidentally offended Sir Cadogan and he won’t let us in.”

Neville chortled. “Oh.” He went to stand in front of the portrait. “Did you say sorry?”

“No. I just want to get in,”

“Sir.” Neville called. It took a few seconds before the knight walked into the picture. “Baronduki,”

Sir Cadogan bowed his head and was about to swing open the door when Neville stopped him.

“Oh, sorry, sir. My friend here seems to have upset you.” He said. “He wants to apologise.”

Sir Cadogan sneered at them. Neville pulled Seamus by his robe to stand in front of the painting.

“Alright. M’sorry,” He said gloomily, kicking his leg.

“Very well,” Sir Cadogan said. “I could let you sleep in the corridor to make you learn your lesson. But it seems that you are penitent of your actions and, for that, I shall let you through,”

Seamus couldn’t help but mutter a jarring ‘that complacent prat’ which thankfully went unnoticed. He flashed a secret smile at Dean as they went through the portrait hole. Dean returned it happily and turned to Neville.

“Why didn’t he provoke you in duel Neville? He seems to do that for everyone else,”

Neville shrugged. They stepped into the fairly crowded Common Room. “We talked a lot last time I forgot the password. He’s actually pretty nice. If you’d talked to him and apologised I’m sure he’d have let you in earlier!”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Seamus laughed. They climbed the staircases to the dormitories with Neville still trying to make a case for Sir Cadogan.

“You know, it goes for everyone.” Neville said, still insisting even though Seamus was already pulling the curtains around his bed. “Next time, just apologise.”

Dean saluted Neville’s insistence to get his point through Seamus’ thick head, but as it was a lost cause, he decided to save him the trouble.

“Your passwords list is on your bed.” Dean said. “Better put it somewhere you’ll remember.”  
Neville turned around and reviewed it.

Dean sat on his bed. Across from the room, through the curtains of Ron’s bed, he saw glowing yellow eyes looking at him. Hermione’s cat sure spent a lot of time in the boy’s dormitory lately. He wondered if it was still trying to find Ron’s rat. The feline’s obsession with chasing the rat made for a Saturday-cartoon situation that both baffled and entertained Dean to no end. He wondered what the rat had done to anger a Kneazle-cat that much.

“That’s the right list. Thanks Dean!” Neville chirped. Dean smiled and looked at Seamus now emerging from his curtains in his night clothes. He was carrying a large amount of candy that he dumped on Dean’s bed. He promptly stopped any thoughts he had about Crookshanks in favour of a liquorice wand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year with the incomprehensible French lesson.

Seamus had never expressed any interest in being a house champion for the Tri-wizard tournament, being perfectly happy sitting on the side of things, making predictions about who’d be chosen. When Harry’s name twirled out of the Goblet of Fire, Seamus was convinced that he’d put his name in himself. Dean saw no reason why Harry would lie about it and was more sceptical about the popular conception, but arguing with Seamus was always a rocky business that he preferred to avoid.

Sure it’d been full of ups and downs. Knowing their difference of opinion, sometimes Seamus would be distant and skulking for a few days before returning with an ill-formed excuse. Neville and Lavender had asked him how Seamus was doing more than a few times, but Dean didn’t give a straight answer and assured them that Seamus was doing especially well in Muggle Studies that year.

Dean didn’t think much of Seamus’ temper. And, sure enough, Seamus soon got swept in the crowd and covered himself with the name of Harry Potter and the colours of the Gryffindor house.

Dean was glad to see him come around, but even more so, he was glad to see Seamus put the Ireland rosette from the Quidditch World Cup down and replace it with a Support Harry badge. Though no one had been able to hear the rosette say the players’ names for months, it had started to produce an annoying low buzz reminiscent of television static that Dean hated.

He was looking at Seamus’ badge at dinner, watching the words come and go with sparkling effects.

Seamus looked up at him and nodded his head at the Beauxbatons students eating next to them. In a few weeks, the Yule Ball would be held in the Great Hall. Seamus had already asked Lavender to go with him –to which she’d more or less enthusiastically agreed. Seamus might have gotten lucky, but Dean hadn’t shared his luck and found himself without a partner.

Dean shook his head. He wasn’t happy to go to the ball alone, but he had heard of how harsh Fleur had been when Ron tried to invite her to the ball –although the accounts differed— and he wasn’t going to risk it.

Seamus’ shoulders dropped and he tilted his head towards the foreign students again, prompting Dean to talk. They were speaking French. He sighed, spotting a girl about his age. She looked a little dour and unhappy, but he liked her sandy, golden-brown hair.

“Uh, excuse me...” He tried; voice too low to be heard by anyone but Seamus who was listening intently. “Excuse me!” He said again, this time encouraged by his friend gesturing at him to speak up.

The girl clearly paused in her conversation, but she did not acknowledge him. She picked it up again. He threw a puzzled look at Seamus who once again signalled at him to talk.

“Uh, pardon me...but could I—”

This time, the girl turned around with a huff. “I’m sorry. Did I accidentally give you zee imprèssion zat I wished to speak wiz you?” She bristled. Her friend across the table gasped in horror at her words. The others sort of smirked condescendingly.

“So-sorry,” He said, cheeks burning up in embarrassment. He returned to his meal without bothering to check what kind of face Seamus was pulling.

No one said anything else. He was planning on finishing his meal and sneaking back to the Common Room, but the group of Beauxbatons students were leaving now and the friend of the girl he’d tried to talk to, stretched over the table to tap on his shoulder.

“Euh...sorry.” She struggled to pick her words. “My friend is...euh...not good. Mevanwi’s boyfriend is...go...euh...went to...”

Dean blinked. That seemed to unnerve her more than anything.

“He is not good too,” She finally blurted out.

Dean smirked. “Thank you,” He said. While he didn’t really understand what she was trying to say, he did appreciate the effort she was making to say it.

She was visibly still concerned that Dean didn’t understand, but she left to return to her carriage without another word.

Seamus was smirking. “You should have asked that one,” He said.

“She couldn’t even put two sentences together,” He dabbed at his mashed potatoes.

“Would you really need to blather to her though?” Seamus raised an eyebrow, cocky grin in place.

“Seamus!”

He only laughed at that and Dean silently decided that the subject was closed. The badge Seamus was wearing caught his eye again.

He twirled his fork in the sauce the lamb was bathing in. “What made you change your mind about Harry?”

Seamus stopped chewing on his roll to look at him. There was a moment where they just stared at each other. Dean didn’t think the question warranted that much thinking.

“He’s in our house,” Seamus said simply. He broke another piece of his roll. “And he’s my friend,”

Dean waited. While anyone else would have deemed it their turn to talk, he knew Seamus wasn’t done speaking.

“I never supported Cedric anyway,” He mumbled as an afterthought.

Dean frowned, taking a forkful of lamb in his mouth. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Seamus looked around them. With the Beauxbatons students gone, the nearest students were at the Hufflepuff table behind Dean. Seamus leaned in to whisper. “He seems like those guys who’d never take food first, but when it’s their turn they get all the good stuff and the rest of us have only three carrots to share.”

“You’re saying he’s only pretending to be a good boy?”

Seamus thought for a moment. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

Dean gulped down a mouthful of potatoes. “So you’re saying he stole your food.”

“No!” Seamus took a sip of his pumpkin juice. “I’m saying...he...wants to be noble or humble...modest or whatever it is that the Hufflepuffs praise him for, but he wants the same thing Harry does. Whether he put his name in the cup or not.”

Dean put his utensils down. “He’s pretty smart though,”

“Fred and George say he’s dumb,” Seamus did the same and swung his feet over the bench. Dean followed him. They met at the end of the long table to walk up to the Common Room together.

Halfway through a staircase, Seamus stopped abruptly. Dean didn’t realise it until he was a good 5 steps ahead.

“What’s going on?”

Seamus was looking down at the stairs. It was one of those trick stairs that caused Seamus so much anguish in their first year, but he’d since grown tall enough to be able to jump them.

“Nothing,” He said, skipping the trick step and going up to where Dean was waiting for him. “You should try to ask that girl out again,”

Dean side-eyed him. “Why do you care so much?”

Seamus turned his head away from him, pretending to look at the portraits minding their own business in their frames. “I thought we could go together,”

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. “Together?”

“Yeah,” Seamus shrugged.

Dean was confused. “Aren’t you taking Lavender?”

Seamus looked a bit puzzled too. “I am,”

“Then why would we go together?”

They stopped on a landing. Seamus was looking at him with a mix of several confusing emotions and Dean was pretty sure his own face mirrored them.

“If you get a date to go to the ball,” Seamus explained, enunciating every word. “The four of us could go together.”

“Oh!” Dean felt his face burn up when he understood his misunderstanding. “Yeah, of course...”

Seamus looked at him suspiciously before he walked up a flight of stair and reached the corridor where the Common Room entrance was. Dean followed closely behind.

“I assumed you wouldn’t like third-wheeling at the Yule Ball,” Seamus said. “But maybe you don’t wanna come at all,”

Dean dismissed the idea. “No, I’ll come. I’ll ask her. The French girl,”

And he did. He asked her two days later when he saw her near the lake. Once he got his point across, she blushed, twirled her hair and acquiesced. Dean came back to the castle and Seamus rejoiced at the news. It felt like he was going through the motions, proper and mechanical; going to dance lesson, asking the girl out, planning his outfit, going to the ball. None of it felt like it was of any particular relevance to Dean.

Anna, the French girl he had asked, was nice enough. She was averagely pretty and her blond hair fell right above her shoulders. It was curly for the night, but it had been straight the other days he’d seen her. Dean wasn’t sure why it was important, but he noticed anyway.

On Seamus’ side, Lavender didn’t seem like she was particularly appreciative of the fact that her partner had turned the evening into a double date. She did try to pull Seamus away to the dance floor or outside where many couples were taking romantic stroll around the lake, but he’d had either been oblivious of her attempts or just refused to acknowledge them.

It was late in the night now and Dean had heard maybe three words from his date. Lavender had tried to ask her which city she was from, and the three Hogwarts students were pretty sure Anna had understood the question but none of them had understood the answer.

Lavender had eventually found Parvati, who was incessantly complaining about Harry to her, and had begged Seamus to go get drink for them. Dean smiled at Anna awkwardly.

“Drink,” She said, pointing at Mad-Eye Moody who was downing the content of his flask again.

Dean tried to dig in his memory to find the little bit of French he remembered from Elementary School.

“Professor Moody...uhm, il boire beaucoup.” He said in what he thought was the most horrible accent anyone had ever heard. Anna’s eyes were sparkling though and a huge smile brightened her face.

“Tu parles français?” She asked enthusiastically.

Now he knew what that meant. “No, not really. I know a little. Un peu.”

She smiled, looking more comfortable. “Qu’est-ce qu’il boit?” She pointed at Professor Moody again. Dean blinked at her and she made a drinking gesture followed with a shrug with her hands in the air.

He clapped his hand once when he understood. “Je ne sais pas,” He said. “Non...uh...pas de...pumpkin juice...uh, jus...”

She giggled cutely, making Dean proud of his clumsy attempt. “Non, ce n’est probablement pas du jus de citrouille.” Anna laughed heartily. When she stopped, her eyes grew curious. “J’étais près de lui tout à l’heure et j’aurais juré reconnaître l’odeur d’une potion de polimorphie. Le polynectar est autorisé ici?”

Dean looked at her with wide eyes full of blatant incomprehension. He unconsciously glanced at Seamus for help, even his friend was too far away, at the punch and amuse-bouches table. Anna apologised and stirred the conversation elsewhere. “Ton ami. Il parle français?”

“Seamus?”

She nodded.

“No,”

“Ah...” She looked around, seemingly trying to find another subject. “C’est ton meileur ami? Uhm...best...best friends?”

Dean grinned at that, happy that his friendship with Seamus was clear as day even with language boundaries. “Yes!”

“Je ne comprends rien de ce qu’il dit.” She laughed harder than before. “Mais comme je le vois, tu l’aimes beaucoup.”

Dean coughed a little and stood straighter. “Tu l’aimes?”

“You,” She said, pointing at Dean. “Tu l’aimes. Ton ami. Tu le regardes beaucoup.”

Dean scrambled for words he could piece into a sentence. You like…, and then, ami meant friend and regarder...was watch. Had he been looking at Seamus that much?

“Good friends,” She added happily.

“Good friends,” He repeated, looking over at Seamus who was trying to balance four cups of juice in his hands. He gave him a desperate look. Dean didn’t look away from him as he said; “Yeah, I like him,”

Anna put a comforting hand on his. There was no romance in her touch, barely a tinge of friendship, but it was full of basic human kindness; a sort of understanding that Dean didn’t get but appreciated. Their moment didn’t last much longer as Seamus announced loudly that he was ready to dance and dragged everyone to the dance floor, pulling Dean along first and foremost.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year with the vexatious pantry rendez-vous.

Dean was quite happy that, despite Seamus’ refusal to join Harry’s cause, they remained friends. He was pretty sure Seamus knew about the D.A. secret meetings. He made it clear that he didn’t want to be part of it, but he wasn’t the kind of person who’d spoil the whole organisation out of spite. He merely pretended it wasn’t happening.

That’s how it was; Seamus trudging along, generally happy so long as the topic of Harry stayed off the table, and Dean avoiding any subject that wasn’t their latest homework or the new flavour of Bertie Bott’s beans. It was no surprised that he was getting more and more exhausted as the weeks went on. While balancing his faith in Harry and his friendship with Seamus had been fairly easy at the beginning, it was becoming rougher by the day.

They were in the middle of a meeting and Dean had been practicing with Neville on one side and a group of girls on the other.

“Did you hear about the pantry by the kitchens?” Lavender asked. Dean lifted his head, thinking the question was addressed to him. She was talking to Hannah Abbott. He returned to trying to reduce an old Quaffle to tennis-ball size.

“The pantry? Near our Common Room?”

“Yes!” She leaned in to whisper. “I heard some people, well, couples, go there late at night.”  
Hannah put a hand on her mouth and her eyes grew wide with curiosity. “What! Is that why I see so many people wandering around the kitchens when I come back from Astronomy?”

“Probably!” Lavender said, eyes sparkling with the prospect of fresh gossip. “Who have you see there?”

“I’ve seen tons of people!” Hannah started counting on her hand. “Angelina Johnson, Blaise Zabini, Padma Patil, Seamus Finnigan, Anthony Goldstein…”

Dean had to focus to keep his head low when he heard his best friend’s name.

“Oh, Merlin! You have to tell me more about this!” Lavender was giggling. “I wonder who they were going to meet…” She looked at Hannah hopefully.

The other girl sort of shifted. “Hmm, I didn’t really pay attention.”

Hannah was suddenly hesitant, regretting divulging any kind of information to Lavender. She seemed very ill at ease with the prying.

“Come on, you must have noticed something! Or someone” Lavender pushed away the shoe they were using for practice and looked at the Hufflepuff girl in the eyes. “What about Padma? Did you see her with anyone? Parvati didn’t tell me anything about it! She might not even know!”

“I don’t remember.”

Dean would probably beat himself up about it later, but he found that he couldn’t stop listening.

“Then what about Seamus?” Lavender said. “He’s been so weird lately!”  
Hannah glanced away suspiciously.

“What?” Lavender asked. “What, you know something? Who was Seamus with?”

“No, probably not.” Hannah took the shoe back and pointed her wand to it. “Maybe I just imagined it,”

Lavender bounced up and down in excitement. “Tell me! You know I went to the Yule ball with him! He didn’t stop talking to his friends all night, what a waste. He owes me one!”

Dean raised an eyebrow and attempted to look at the girls. Lavender said friends but Dean didn’t remember Seamus speaking to anyone else but him that night. He felt oddly proud about it.

The words seemed to make Hannah gain a little confidence.

“Okay, well.” She put her wand back in her pocket. “I just thought it was weird to see him down in the basement…and then, well when I was in the Common Room I saw…Uhm,”

Lavender was so focused, if a Death Eater were to erupt in the Room of Requirement at that moment, she would defeat them out of anger that they interrupted Hannah’s story.

“Well?”

“I just thought it was strange that Justin would go out so late.”

Lavender cocked her head. “Justin?”

“Justin Flitch-Fletchley? He’s in our year?” Hannah sighed in exasperation when she saw that Lavender still looked puzzled. “He’s standing about 10 meters from us right now.” She finally said, pointing over to Justin who was trying to disarm Ernie Macmillan. “Seriously, I know Gryffindor and Hufflepuff don’t have many classes together but you should know all of us!”

Dean had followed her pointing without really thinking and quickly caught himself and turned to look at his still normal-sized Quaffle.

“I know who Justin is!” Lavender growled between her teeth. “Oh Merlin, he’s looking over here. Just wave at him Hannah! Quick!”

Hannah did and Justin sort of waved back, confused. He leaned in to whisper something to Ernie who looked over to the girls and shrugged at his friend.

“Wait…that means Seamus is…” Lavender thought for a second. “And Justin too. I would have never thought...”

Hannah waved her hands frantically. “Ssshh,” Dean could feel her look at him and he was pretty sure the girls had noticed they were talking very close to him; known best friend of Seamus Finnigan.

“Say Neville,” Dean said, distracting his friend who was trying to remember the wand gesture for the disarming spell. “What’s the hand movement for Impedimenta?”

“That one is fairly easy,” Neville traced a line in the air. “See?”

Dean nodded and smiled. “Thanks. Couldn’t remember.”

When he turned around, the girls had gone to sit next to the fire and he gave up on trying to overhear. When the meeting ended, he thanked Harry who remarked that Dean had been out of it and hadn't been improving at the same pace as the others. Dean apologised although he had no reasons to and walked back to the Gryffindor tower still mulling over what he had heard. 

Now Dean wasn’t the gossipy kind of person, but he was a curious person by nature and what he’d heard Hannah say had brought him to be more aware of Seamus’ comings and goings from the Common Room. Unfortunately, with the D.A. meetings, he couldn’t really keep good track of them and whenever he’d come back to the dormitory, Seamus would already be sleeping.

It was by pure coincidence that he saw Seamus walk out the portrait hole when he was coming back from studying in the library. He was thankful that Neville didn’t ask any question when he saw him sneak after Seamus.

Seamus was walking fast, almost in a hurry, through the stairways and the corridors. He wasn’t sure why he was creepily stalking his friend instead of straight-up asking him, but he did anyway.

He had to duck behind various pieces of furniture in order to avoid Seamus’ furtive looks over his shoulders. His footsteps sounded incredibly loud. He turned into a hallway and took a moment of tumbling over himself to take off his shoes.

They continued to go down the staircases, Seamus walking faster and faster at every turn. Barring the few times he had to guess right or left, he thought he was doing a great job until he noticed Seamus slowing his pace. His robe or his shadow projected on the walls must have been visible because Seamus suddenly stopped and called out Dean’s name.

He didn’t sound angry or exasperated, just slightly amused.

“Oh, hey Seamus,” He said, trying to act casual. “I was just...”

“Following me,” Seamus had his arms crossed above his chest.

“No, I’m...just...here for Hermione’s S.P.Y.; S.P.A.Y.; err...S.P.E.W. meeting with the elves in the kitchen.” He

“Nice try.” Seamus said. “I was there when you told her you couldn’t go,”

“Well, my schedule...”

“Dean, just shut up and go back.” Seamus was still smirking. “I’m just here to get a snack and go,” He said.

It was probably the first time he’d heard Seamus lie to him and his heart sunk thinking about it. He glowered. Yeah, maybe they could make their friendship work even with diverging opinions but it was a hell of a lot harder. And Dean felt like it was more unfair to him, who had to censor himself, than to Seamus.

“It’s not because you don’t believe Harry and I do that you need to lie to me about everything,”

Seamus sniggered. “Watch me,”

The complacent tone made Dean boil up. He wasn’t easy to anger but Seamus had enough hold over his feelings to irk him with a misplaced word.

“Damn it Seamus, Where did you lose your spine? I get that your mum’s scared but you’re a right fool for not believing that You-Know-Who’s back. If you keep being a thick sod like that, you’ll ruin everything.” Dean could not tear his eyes from Seamus’. “Including this,” He gestured between them vaguely.

Seamus’ lips were a thin line. “Is that what you think?”

“I think Godric Gryffindor would be ashamed to have you in his house,”

His words weren’t a testimony of the chivalry he was known for. They made Seamus gnash his teeth and clench his fist. For a moment, Seamus moved his way and Dean thought he’d get punched. He expected a good right hook to the face and his eyes even fluttered as he braced himself for an impact. He was pretty sure Seamus was strongly considering it too. But the blow never came.

“Whatever.” Seamus turned on his heels. “You say so much bull when you’re cheesed off.”

“Seamus!”

“Don’t follow me, you stalker.” He yelled back, walking down the hallway and away from the scene.

It was much, much later that night that Seamus came back to the dorm. Dean had been pretending to sleep for hours, Harry and Ron had come back exhausted a few hours before and Neville had been snoring for a long time already. He guessed it was around 2am when he heard Seamus walking stealthily between the beds, hitting his knee against the stove in the process.

“Shay?” Dean whispered. There was no answer but the sounds of sheets ruffling stopped. “Sorry.” He said through the darkness. He couldn’t see two centimetres in front of him, but his eyes were wide open, waiting for any reaction he could catch.

There was the gritting noise of curtains being pulled around a bed and he felt a wave of disappointment crash on him. He couldn’t dwell on it though because he felt someone close to his bed and he heard his own curtains being pulled.

Seamus was crawling onto his mattress and settled to lie on his back next to Dean who had to budge up to one side of the narrow bed.

“I’m sorry too,” Seamus said softly. “I was upset and took it out on you,”

“Aren’t you doing the same to Harry?”

Seamus sighed heavily and shifted next to him. Dean didn’t really expect Seamus to press closer to him, but he did. “Please, don’t start again.”

“Then can you tell me what you were doing in the basement?” His question was answered with silence. “You’re not going to tell me are you.”

“I was getting a snack.”

Dean snickered. “For 4 hours? Sounds more like a three-course dinner,”

Seamus growled. “Shove off,”

He decided to drop it for the moment and arranged his arm so Seamus could cushion his head on it.

Seamus nuzzled his shoulder and sighed contently. Dean smiled in the darkness.

\-----

So, since Seamus wouldn’t give him a straight answer then maybe Justin would. It wasn’t like Dean to be so insistent to know more about something his best friend clearly wanted to keep in the shadows, and he couldn’t tell if it was the frustration of being lied to that pushed him to act this way or something else altogether.

Either way, he spotted Justin talking with Ernie after the following D.A. meeting.

“Justin, can I have a word?”

Justin looked around him, as if there was anyone else Dean could be talking to. “Sure,”

They went to stand a little but further from the crowd, by the huge mirror beside the fire.

“What’s the matter?” Justin asked. If the situation was reversed and Dean would be the one taken out by Justin, he’d be pretty confused too. Aside from the occasional chat in Magical Theory, where their seats were close-by, they hadn’t really interacted all that much before.

“Do you know Seamus? Seamus Finnigan?”

Justin looked him up and down warily. “Yes,” He answered simply, without flourish or questions.

“He hasn’t really come around yet. His mother is really scared with all these talks about You-Know-Who’s return.”

“I know,” Justin said. His body was placed in a way that made it look like he was about to leap away.

“What do you…think about it?”

Gryffindors usually weren’t the possessors or much tact and Dean thought that he was fitting right into the stereotype at that moment. The conversation was a failure as Justin was already suspicious from the head-start, but Dean was too committed to the plan he’d prepared to abandon it.

“Why would I think anything about it?” Justin snapped back.

Dean shrugged. “What do you think about Seamus then? Do you know him well?”

“He’s alright.” Well, Justin sure was a lot less chatty than he was in Magical Theory. “Now if that’s all, just let me go back to my friends,” Justin was turning around and Dean had to say something before it was too late. He didn’t think he’d get to talk with him one- on-one after this.

“Do you know about the pantry by the kitchens?” Dean’s voice was a bit loud and Ginny Weasley glanced over at them. Dean tried to ignore her.

Justin had frozen. His back was facing Dean. Very slowly, he gyred around. He brushed his thick black hair back in a nervous gesture.

“He told you,” He mumbled. His head shot up suddenly, panic visible in his every limb. “Oh my God, my mum’s gonna kill me,”

“No, I just heard some rumours. He didn’t tell me anything. Didn’t even mention your name.” Dean tried to calm Justin down with a pat on the back which he refused by slipping away.

“Who’s spreading them?” He asked. Dean made a mental note to never anger a Hufflepuff, the glint in Justin’s eyes was like an omen of death.

“I don’t know,” He said. “I just heard of it. Sorry, it wasn’t my place to be...curious,”

Justin shot him a glare. “No kidding. Ah, I’m never going to live through this,” He grabbed his head. “Don’t tell anyone else, Dean!”

“No, no, I didn’t, er, I won’t.” Dean assured. “But why do you worry so much?”

“You’re from the Muggle world like me,” Justin sounded serious. “You know what the prejudices are. My mum is all about fancy lunches and tennis clubs; you can imagine how she’ll welcome the news!”

“I guess,” Dean nodded empathetically. “But I’d say you’re safe from that here. Save from Umbridge of course. But is anyone really safe with her.”

The joke fell flat. Justin clicked his tongue. He turned to Ernie who was looking in their direction with a mix of annoyance and chariness. Justin signalled to him that everything was okay and that he could head back first without him. When he looked back at Dean, his eyes weren’t angry anymore but slightly melancholic.

“At home it’s homophobia.” Justin groaned. “Here it’s blood purity.”

Dean lowered his head and bit his lips culpably. “I...I never thought about that,”

“Not many people have both to worry about,” Justin smiled sadly.

Dean returned the smile with a brighter one. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about you and Seamus...”

“We’re done,” Justin said, voice suddenly getting a harsher edge to it. “I told him if anyone found out we’d be done. That was the deal,”

Dean’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry,”

“S’not your fault,” Justin fiddled with the edge of his uniform and pulled on his sleeves to make them even again. “It’s easier that way.”

Dean shifted awkwardly. “Sorry, still.”

Justin just shrugged.

When they got out from the Room of Requirement, he found that Ginny had been waiting for him outside. He bid Justin goodbye, added a good luck for good measure, and the Hufflepuff boy was going down the first set of stairs that would lead him to his Common Room. There was something heavy in his footstep that gave a pinch to Dean’s heart.

“Hi there,” He said to Ginny. “What are you doing?”

“You and Justin didn’t seem so happy,” She said. “What’s up?”

The Weasley girl was cool. She may have been younger than him, but she was definitely more popular. He was a bit surprised that she’d go out of her way to talk to him actually. Not that they were strangers, far from it, but she’d never expressed that much concern for him than for anyone else.

“Nothing. I just wanted to borrow his notes on Magical Theory. He didn’t let me.” He said, forcing a smile that didn’t convince Ginny at all but made her drop the topic.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me,” She said.

They walked together in silence. Ginny was walking closer than she needed to and Dean felt his cheeks get hotter at the idea that she was walking this way on purpose. He figured it was a good time to attempt to hold her hand and she seemed to have somehow read his mind because he felt her cold fingers intertwine with his. He didn’t know what it meant and didn’t dare to ask.

Sure, they had been flirting back and forth for a little while now, but he’d never really let himself consider the possibility of a deeper, more meaningful romantic relationship. He was taken aback.

They let go as soon as they saw the portrait of the Fat Lady. Ginny grinned at him encouragingly and Dean felt a little light-headed from the gentleness in it. They said good night softly, almost secretly and he climbed up to his dormitory with a million thoughts floating about in his head.

It wasn’t until he saw Seamus come back later that night, looking tired and glum, that the full weight of his guilt about the conversation he had with Justin fell onto his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

“Grand,” He said. Dean was expecting him to flop down on his bed and draw the curtains as he was used to do now, but he couldn’t have predicted that Seamus would cross over the room and lay himself down next to where Dean was studying on his bed. Dean put down his parchment and hesitated before he moved a hand through Seamus’ hair. The boy sighed deeply.

“What happened?” Dean asked.

“Stuff,” He said in a growl, with an odd tightness in his voice. Dean didn’t press the issue. “How do you reckon Harry’s right?”

“Uhm?” Dean tousled Seamus’ hair as a way to keep him calm if they were going to go on a touchy subject. “He was right the other times. And if we can’t trust Dumbledore then who else can we trust?”

Seamus kept quiet.

“Listen, I know your mum’s worried.” Dean said, keeping his voice low in fear of waking Neville up. “But you have to find the courage and presence to accept he’s back. You’re just wasting your time right now.”

Seamus was silent for a long time. Dean didn’t stop rubbing his hand through his hair.

“I’ll come with you to your thing next week,” He said eventually, without further explanation. “Show me where it is,”

Dean grinned. “Okay,”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year with the prohibited potions

Seamus practically bled red and gold. Sure the sorting hat had hesitated before placing him in Gryffindor, but no one could think that he’d been mis-sorted. He was proud, he was brave, he could be brash and tactless, but his determination was to be praised.

He was so far from the Banshee-fearing boy he was in his first years at Hogwarts, Dean couldn’t help but marvel at how much he had grown. He didn’t think anyone else had changed as much as he did. Aside from, perhaps, Neville who was becoming more confident by the day.

Sure, he was still stubborn and borderline childish and he’d been upset when Dean had been chosen as a replacement for Katie Bell while she was being treated at St. Mungos. Dean had figured as much. It .it didn’t last because a few days later Seamus was encouraging him in the stands and sharing his Honeyduke’s loot with him.

They were doing just that at the moment; sharing sweets Seamus had brought back from Hogsmeade. Dean was reading a book on Quidditch Ginny had given to him in hopes that he would stop comparing it to football. He thought the chances of that happening were very slim.

“You know the Yule Ball in 4th year?” Seamus spoke suddenly. It interrupted his reading, but he kept his eyes on the page.

“I know of it,”

“If I’d asked you to come to the ball with me, what would you have said?”

“You did ask me,” Dean looked up from his book. “We went together.”

“I mean,” Seamus started again. He got off from his bed to walk over to Dean’s and sit on the quilt. “I mean. If I’d asked you personally. Before I asked Lavender.”

“Personally?”

“Just the two o’ us. If I’d ask you to go as...” He seemed to struggle with the choice of his words for a moment. He looked at Dean as if he was hopeful that the other understood without him having to say it. He sighed. “If I’d asked to go as mates,”

It clearly wasn’t the word he’d been looking for, and Dean maybe-understood what Seamus was asking, but he denied it. “Why would I have said no to that? I can barely remember my date’s name.” He was joking. He’d gotten a letter from her –that he could only half-read— not two weeks earlier.

“Then if there’s ever another ball, let’s go together, yeah?”

Dean raised a comic eyebrow at him. “That’s a tricky promise to make when I’ve got a girlfriend,”

Seamus faltered. “I mean, the four of us.”

“Four?”

“You, me, Ginny and Terry.”

Dean put his book down, his entire attention now on Seamus. “Terry?”

“Terry Boot. Ravenclaw. Our year.”

“You’re friends with him?”

The cheeky smile Seamus gave him could only mean one thing. “Don’t act surprised. I know you knew about Justin.”

The guilt of an old conversation made Dean shudder. “That’s...” He was so focused on trying to explain himself that he didn’t notice Seamus’ eyes becoming darker and timid.

“Unless...” Seamus’ voice had lost his brazenness and sounded different, fragile almost. “Does it bother you?”

“Why? Terry’s a good person,”

Terry Boot wasn’t a bad person. He was knowledgeable, earned tons of points for Ravenclaw and he had his priorities in order. Dean was a little possessive of Seamus, he knew that much, but he also knew that he couldn’t keep him for himself, so he was going to repress the jealousy in favour of support.

Seamus bit his lip. “He’s a bloke,”

Dean paused to wonder at what Seamus was asking. When it fell into place, he started to laugh. It was something he’d known and accepted such a long time ago that it felt strange to realise that Seamus didn’t know he knew. His reaction might have sounded obnoxious, because his friend wasn’t joining in the laughter.

“Shay, I don’t care what you do in broom cupboards with Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws. I don’t even care if you go for a Slytherin. Just pick a nice one.” Dean gave him a genuine smile that Seamus only half returned. “Then if there’s ever another ball, let’s go together, yeah?” Dean repeated, sitting back comfortably against the headboard of his bed and plunging once more in his book, even though this time he couldn’t concentrate on a single word.

Seamus stayed on his bed for a long time, munching on sweets quietly.

Following the revelation that Seamus was –more or less seriously—seeing Terry Boot, Dean had been a bit unnerved whenever they had a shared class with Ravenclaw and Seamus chose to sit with Terry instead of him. His displeasure was probably more overt than he thought because Lavender approached him during Charm class one day. He was ready for excuses such as; Terry and Seamus are working on a History of Magic project together or he needed to sit with Neville so he could copy last week’s notes off of him.

That is not to say he was ready for Lavender’s questioning.

“Dean, I need to ask you something about Seamus,”

“Well.” He started, putting his wand down on the desk ceremoniously. “He’s over there,”

“No, no, I can’t ask him _directly_.” She said, pulling her chair closer to him. “I’ll just ask you,”

There didn’t seem to be any way he could escape it, so Dean imagined he’d have to hear her out.

“Does Seamus have a...thing...” She made a woolly kind of gesture. “for Muggle-borns?”

“A thing?” He asked. “What do you mean?”

Lavender looked up to the ceiling as if she was asking someone to burst through it and talk for her.

“You know, does he have a…” She swept the room with a stare and leaned towards him to whisper: “Muggle-born fetish,”

“What makes you think that?” He asked, wrinkling his nose.

Lavender seemed to think he was joking. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know. There’s not only you, there was Justin and Terry…”

“Me?”

“Well, you’re Muggle-born aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dean gave her a funny look. “Also not dating Seamus,”

“That’s not because he doesn’t try,”

“Sorry?”

Lavender sighed. Dean didn’t like the way she talked to him as if he was an idiot. “Heard from Parvati who heard from Anthony Goldstein, Terry’s roommate, that Seamus wanted to slip you a Kissing Concoction,”

Dean rolled his eyes, glancing at Seamus laughing with Terry a few rows over. “And what’s that?”

“Sort of makes you want to kiss someone really badly.” Lavender bent down to take a small bottle out of her bag. “Wonderwitch makes it, but I got this one from Beauxbatons.”

Dean took a bottle and observed the label. “Why would he want to give me that?”

“I heard he’s jealous now that you’re always off somewhere with Ginny,”

“Stop with the I-heards and the what-ifs,” Dean slammed the bottle down and pushed it to her side of the desk. “If Seamus had something to tell me, or if he wanted me to do something, he wouldn’t use some creepy potion.”

Lavender looked down with what Dean thought to be remorseful eyes, but turned out to be filled with annoyance and pretend-regret. “I just want to help,”

“I know you do,” Dean said gently, playing along. Lavender was a gossip and sometimes went too far in not minding her business, but she was never ill-intentioned. “You should worry about your own relationship and let the others alone sometimes, you know.”

He waved at Ron who was glancing over from where he was sitting next to Harry. They were both looking at him with decidedly angry expressions. Between dating his sister and chatting with his girlfriend in class, he could see why Ron wasn’t too fond of him at the moment.

He looked at Lavender suspiciously. “You don’t use this Kissing thing on…”

“No! Ron and I are doing fine. We don’t need that!” She said with a tone that definitely did not sound fine.

Dean just sent a smile to Neville who shrugged helplessly. It was only when Lavender was gone that he noticed the pink bottle she left behind. When he tried to take it back to her she refused, saying it wasn’t hers.

He didn’t want to argue and hid the potion in his pocket for the time being.

\------

Later that week, he was going through the parchments in his drawer when Neville spoke up behind him.

“You know about what Lavender said. Seamus does have this weird glass bottle in his drawer. It’s kind of the same colour as that love potion she gave you,”

Dean didn’t say a word and simply walked to Seamus’ bed and looked through the drawer where he found a glass pot that looked like a tiny version of the mason jars his mum filled with jam every fall.

“You reckon it’s a love potion?” Neville asked.

“Well there’s no label.” He twisted the lid and opened it. “It smells the same. But it looks thicker.”

Neville walked over to smell it, too. “Does it smell the same? The other one smelled more like…herbs…or grass.”

“Don’t they smell like strawberry?”

“Okay, yeah, maybe.” Neville seemed to agree more out of politeness than actual conviction. He walked back to his bed and Dean stood with the bottle in his hands. “What should I do?”

“You should ask Seamus.”

“Last time I meddled in these things we had a fight and I ended up making him break up with someone,” He said. “He seems happy with Terry,”

Neville thought about it for a while. Dean smelled the content of the bottle again. It was a nice fragrance.

“Then you can ask a teacher if it’s the same potion,” He said. “Or you can perform the Revealing spell yourself. Although I can’t help you there,”

Dean nodded. “You reckon Slughorn would do it?”

“He definitely could…I don’t know if he would,” Neville said. “Worth a try.”

And that’s how Dean ended up bringing both bottles to class, making sure Seamus did not notice the red lidded bottle he had stolen—borrowed—from him. It felt like the class was never-ending that day, but he enjoyed Seamus’ sarcastic comments about the yellow larvae squirming on Professor Sulghorn’s desk.

“Divination next. Kill me know, she’s going to predict it anyway,” Seamus clapped his book closed.

Dean chuckled. “I have to ask something to Slughorn, go ahead of me.” Seamus stopped on his way to the door to look back at him.

“What do you have to ask him?”

“Just about the exam next week,” Dean made a gagging gesture that made Seamus laugh.

“Alright, talk to you later, mate.”

Dean watched him leave and waited until everyone was gone to walk to Slughorn’s desk where the old professor was sorting the ingredients they’d used that day.

“Sir, can I ask you a question,”

Slughorn turned to him and seemed taken aback by his presence. “Mr. Tommys. Of course, of course,”

“It’s Thomas, sir. Dean Thomas.”

“Yes,” Slughorn didn’t seem too preoccupied by his mis-naming. 

“Professor, I have a question about…well it’s about prohibited magic, but I was wondering—”

“Oh, not you too, Mr. Timmys,” Slughorn retorted, pointedly packing up his potion kit with a wave of his wand. “If you’re going to gang up on me—”

“Gang up on you? Who else has asked you about this, Professor? And my name is Thomas.” Dean was clutching the bottles in his pocket.

“Why, Mr. Potter, of course.” Slughorn said, not looking at him as he was about to walk out of the classroom. “And I will tell you the same thing I told him; I have no interest in Dark Magic and you should address your question to Professor Snape.”

Dean shook his head and spoke fast before Slughorn could step out of the room. “Dark Magic? I’m not talking about Dark Magic, Professor, at least I don’t think.”

He briefly wondered why Harry had asked their teacher about Dark Magic and, at the back of his mind, he wanted to ask more about it, but he felt the bottles in his pocket again and decided that this was more important.

Slughorn looked over his shoulder to Dean. “Then what kind of ‘prohibited magic’ are you talking about? You’re not planning on hurting anyone are you Mr. Timothy? Or considering something even worse. If so, I will have to report you to—”

“Oh, Merlin, no Professor, what makes you think that?” Dean was shocked to say the least. He didn’t think he had the profile of a dark wizard.

“Oh I’m sorry Mr. Thorpe—”

“It’s Thomas,”

“—With all these talks of wars and darkness these days, it’s easy for an old brain like mine to assume the worst in people. Please don’t think you look anything other than very ordinary,”

“Uh, thanks, Professor.”

“Will this be all?”

“I haven’t my question yet, sir.” Dean took the bottles out of his pocket.

“Yes, yes, go on, dear boy.”

Slughorn had come back to the classroom and was facing him now. Dean considered getting the teacher’s attention to be a victory already.

“It’s about love potions, sir.” He said. “Love products are still banned in the school, but I happen to have a bottle,”

“Ah yes, always popular amongst the students. I wouldn’t think you’d deem it hard to find yourself a date, Mr. Thornton. With your looks.”

“Thomas, sir. I don’t. I’m actually very lucky to have Ginny Weasley for a girlfriend.”

“Ms. Weasley, ah, a great mind, a great mind indeed. One would question her choice of company sometimes, but she is a bright witch.”

Dean tried not to be offended by the off-hand comment and went on. “I was just wondering if you could tell me if those two potions are the same, they smell the same, but the one with the red cap has no label,”

Slughorn took the bottles with careful hands and took his wand out to tap both bottles. The lids unscrewed magically and floated off their containers. He smelled one, then the other. He performed various spell, amongst which one had a quill write down notes at the side while Slughorn observed the bottles some more.

“This one is a very weak love potion,” Slughorn said pointing at Lavender’s bottle. “I’d say with your height and shape, it would affect you no more than an hour, two at most.” He said, moving on to the second bottle. Dean waited patiently for the verdict. He didn’t think Seamus capable of using love potions to achieve his ends and he failed to see why he’d ever want to use one on Dean. However, he couldn’t help but wonder if the rumours were founded and Seamus indeed possessed a kissing concoction that he could whip out if need be. Dean wasn’t all warm about the idea of mind-control disguised as love. He promptly stopped thinking when Slughorn started to speak again.

“This one is a simple Strawberry Scented Handcream.” Slughorn chortled. The lids were floating back to their respective bottles. “Tell me, Mr. Thorne, do you like strawberries?”

“Not particularly. And please call me Thomas, sir.”

“I must say this love potion, may have a tinge of Amortentia or a substitute of it in its core ingredients as the two potions don’t share the same smell to me,” Slughorn chortled. “The smell of strawberries might evoke a feeling of comfort in you, in one way or an another, if you recall our class on—oh my goodness, have you looked at the time, you must hurry to your next class. You’re already late.”

“Yes, thank you Professor,” Dean took the bottles that were still sitting in front of Slughorn on the desk.

“Stay out of trouble my boy,”

“I will, sir.”

And Dean left the dungeons as fast as he could. He managed to sneak in Divination without much problem. Trelawney was too distracted to notice him. Seamus had kept a seat ready for him at his table.

“What did you have to tell Slughorn?” Seamus whispered to him. “It took forever,”

“We just got carried away with explanations,” Dean explained vaguely, he realised he hadn’t put the bottles back into his robe pocket and decided to try and do it subtly.

“What do you have there?” Seamus asked grabbing one of the bottles. Dean sighed in relief when he saw that it was the handcream pot.

“Sorry, I borrowed it this morning,”

“You shoulda asked.” Seamus said, but he was chuckling. “I get dry hands in the winter. Me mam pays a ridiculous amount of nicker on that stuff.”

“Sorry. It did smell familiar. Is it strawberry?”

“There’s actual strawberries in it. Mashed with Murtlap tentacles. It’s much better than what me dad got from the Muggle store.”

Dean nodded. “I bet. Wizarding medicine is better than Muggle.”

Seamus looked at him strangely. “Wouldn’t say better.” He said, opening the handcream lid. “Different. Muggles make good cough drops.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“Me dad bought them when I was a kid,” He said. “Terry had some the other day. They’re still really good.” He added, licking his lips as if to catch whatever cough drop flavour was left on them.

Dean thought about it for a second, then; “I can ask my mum to send some for you,”

“I’m good. Thanks, mate.” Seamus smiled, turning the page to look for any shape that vaguely resembled the one twirling in their crystal ball.

“Are Terry’s cough drops better than mine?” He asked, feeling a little hurt over Seamus’ prompt refusal.

Seamus laughed. “You definitely wouldn’t administer it to me the way he does,”

Any normal best friend would have probably punched Seamus in the arm, tell him how he really didn’t need to know and laugh it off. But Dean couldn’t bring himself to do what was expected of him. Mostly because he felt an unreasonable pang of jealousy towards Terry. Deep in his vocal cord, words were prepared to say that he, too, could give those cough drops to Seamus the way Terry did, even better than him.

“Alright,” He said instead, trying to bat away the images his brain provided him.

Seamus looked at him confusedly, suspiciously.

Dean tried to convince himself that it was a coincidence that Seamus broke up with Terry not a week later. And that it was a coincidence that Ginny seemed to be heading for the hills out of their relationship. But he couldn’t even fool himself.  


They were not coincidences; they were direct consequences of his actions and decisions. It was only at the end of the year, when he was in his bed, awake at an ungodly hour that he wondered if their seventh year would let him get the courage to tell Seamus that he was falling in love with him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year without Dean.

It was weird. Being alone in the dorm with Neville was weird. Ron, Harry and Dean’s empty beds were weird. They made the entire room look lonely and cold. But maybe it was just because Seamus himself felt weird and lonely and cold that everything followed suit. He sighed loudly.

“They’ll be okay you know,” Neville said, trying to sound comforting even though his hands hadn’t stopped shaking since school started.

“Yeah,”

“Harry literally defeated him when he was a baby,” Neville continued. “And Ron is with him. And Hermione, brightest witch of the century!”

Seamus gave him a feeble look. “You know that’s not who I’m worried about,”

Neville put his parchment and wand aside to look at Seamus. Their beds were in front of each other. They’d left Ron, Harry and Dean’s beds as they were out of respect, no matter how inhabited it made the dormitory look.

“Dean’s an amazing dueller,” He said. “He can hold his own against the Snatchers.”

Seamus preferred not to say anything. The mere thought that Dean may be defending himself against killing curses as they spoke made him feel sick.

“Sleep now, we can’t do anything for them.”

Seamus was consistently tired and no matter how many times Neville would tell him to rest, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t do it when he didn’t know where his best friend was, if he was safe or if his body was lying in a remote Scottish forest without anyone to recover it.

Neither he nor Neville slept that night.

\-----

A very odd owl that looked wilder than the others dropped a lilac letter in front of him at breakfast. With the strict control the ministry had on Hogwarts’ post, letters like these, that were not from his mum and weren’t the Daily Prophet, were rare.

He quickly hid it in his pocket because if one of the Carrows would see it, it was sure to be confiscated and he was positive that if he took another blow to the ear he would stop hearing all together. The bruises on his face were starting to turn, thanks for the Murtlap essence he kept by his bed.

It was after dinner that he finally found the time to open it. He was in the Room of Requirement with a few other students. Neville had detention and Ginny was supposed to go talk to McGonagall about the students getting punished for refusing to attend the ‘new curriculum of Muggle Studies’.

Inside the crumpled lilac envelope was a piece of article from the Daily Prophet. Most students had stopped reading the Prophet. Seamus personally found it burnt quite well in Gryffindor’s Common Room chimney. He was about to toss it aside, wondering who would go through the trouble of sending him a weird owl carrying a piece of rubbish, but he decided to investigate further.

Almost every article he’d had the displeasure of stumbling upon was about the undesirability of Muggle-borns, how they could steal magic and should not be trusted, and they ended in an open invitation to them for ‘interview purposes’. The specific article he was holding was about the threat Muggle-borns posed to The International Statute of Secrecy. Seamus could barely read two lines and got too angry to finish it. The picture of Umbridge smiling and waving made him growl and shrivel the paper. It’s then that he noticed that it felt thicker than usual newspaper. He unfolded it, straightened the corners and placed it on the floor where he was sitting.

“Aparecium,” He muttered, his wand drawing a line and zigzags on the paper. Nothing happened. “Orire,” He said this time drawing a circle on it. The picture of Umbridge still didn’t disappear. “Videsne scriptum.” He pointed his wand and the words seemed to get a tinge of red but maybe it was just a trick of the fire light.

Cho Chang was looking at him from afar and watched him try various other spells before she decided to approach and see what he was doing.

“I think it’s hiding a message,” He said. “But I reckon it’s too well concealed the way it got through the frisk.”

Seamus was always happy to see her come back and visit the Room of Requirement through the secret passageway between the castle and the Hog’s Head. It reminded him that people still lived outside of Hogwarts.

Cho took the paper and examined it, her perplexed impression made Seamus lose heart somewhat. She counted the words and then scribbled something in the air with her wand and finally seemed to understand something.

“Ordines Turbare,” She said. The letters started to squirm and transform and run around the page. The picture of Umbridge was melting to become a fire-breathing lion that roared and stood proudly where she used to be. “It’s smart. Death Eaters wouldn’t think to check for combined Muggle ciphers in letters.” Cho handed it back to Seamus without reading it.

Seamus stared, astonished, and almost forgot to say thank you. He looked down at the letter and started to read hurriedly.

 _Dear friend,_  
_I am okay. I met your cousin Fergus. Your mother is well too. I am running with Cresswell from the ministry, a man named Tonks and some Gringotts’ employees. Stay strong no matter what happens.  
_ _Love,  
_ _D.T.  
_ _P.S. I saw a Banshee near Toome. Truly terrifying._

He looked up at Cho who was waiting for his verdict. He got up with a start, reading the letter again once he was standing. The initials and the picture of the fire-breathing lion told him all he needed to know.

“It’s from Dean,” He said, the bruises on his cheeks stung when he smiled. “He’s okay. He’s with others. He saw a Banshee.”

“What?”

Cho got up too and their sudden outburst caused other students to get up and join them. He kept repeating the same things.

“It’s from Dean. He’s okay.” He told Terry Boot. “He’s with others.” He turned to Lavender. “He saw a Banshee.”

Everyone was laughing and some of them were trying to dislodge the letter out of his hands to take a look at it. He didn’t allow them. Through the commotion around him, he caught sight of Neville entering the common room, a big open wound bled on the side of his forehead near his temple. Seamus ran up to him.

“It’s from Dean,” He said, presenting the letter. “He’s okay. He’s with others.” He let Neville take the letter and read it with a surprised, incredulous expression. “He saw a Banshee,” Seamus added as Neville looked up from the letter.

“But, how did he get it through security?” He asked him.

“It was a Prophet’s article but then...” Seamus turned to the crowd and willed Cho to explain.

“The article was enchanted with Muggle ciphers. I just jumbled the letters and it revealed the message.” She said, a bit ashamed of her pride.

“Brilliant!” Neville exclaimed. He gave the letter back to Seamus. “He’s fighting too. Everyone is. So let’s fight for our friends and families, alright!”

Neville’s pep talk had become common-place these days and was gradually more and more welcomed with groans and shy smiles. This time however, it was greeted with shouts, cheers and acclaims.

With renewed hope and purpose, they left the Room of Requirement to get back to their respective houses, being careful not to be seen by the Carrows who could randomly do tours of the castle to catch students sneaking about.

Seamus had to run after who’d stolen his letter to read it himself. Then it was Lavender who’d taken hold of it and almost cried at the sight of the familiar handwriting. It was only after passing through Padma and Parvati, Marietta, Hannah, Susan and a few others that he got it back. He hid it deep in his pocket on his way back to the Common Room.

Seamus heard of Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein getting caught on their way to the Ravenclaw Common Room. He was still amazed that Terry had managed to fake his blood status this long. The Boot family in Berkshire, old, pure-blooded, and allies to the resistance, had accepted to produce fake certificates and submit them to Hogwarts’ new administration.

Despite this, every time the Carrows fell on Terry’s case, everyone in the D.A. hustled and bustled to keep him from being discovered. It had worked well so far.

“Ernie Macmillan showed up with a portable swamp.” Ginny explained to him when she came back from what must have been a great chase throughout the castle. “They still haven’t caught him. Took ‘em quite a while to cross the swamp.”

Seamus hummed. “Did Terry get out?” He asked. He had his legs propped on the back of the couch and his back against an arm-rest, his eyes were not leaving Dean’s letter.

“Yeah, Anthony took him back to their dormitory.” Ginny said. “Is that Dean’s letter Neville told me about?”

Seamus took his legs down and pulled them close to him. He sat deeper into the couch, away from her. “Yeah,”

Ginny clearly noticed how he’d drawn back. It was hard not to. “Neither of you ever liked to share,”

Seamus looked at her above the letter. “What are you talking about?”

She sighed and tried to grab the letter but he took it out of her reach. “That’s what I’m talking about,”

“It’s my letter. Why would I share it?”

“’Cause you’re not the only one he was friends with him,” Ginny said boldly. Seamus disliked her use of the past tense.

“I know, but the letter says friend, not friendssss.” He argued, turning the letter over and pointing at the top part. “And don’t talk about him like he’s...gone.”

“That’s why I said NEITHER of you were good at it,” Ginny crossed her arms and pulled her legs to her chest, mirroring his sitting position on the other side of the couch. “When we were going out, he’d turn down snogging in favour of faffing about with you.” She said. “Always got on my nerves.”

Seamus didn’t feel guilty about it in the slightest. Maybe it was because he did it to Terry and Justin too, provoking the same kind of frustration from both of them. Or maybe it was because she was speaking of a time so remote to him right now that he couldn’t even feel the ghosts of the feelings that were leftover.

“If you’re waiting for me to say sorry, I—”

“I’m not,” She said. “You can do what you want with what I said,”

And that was the end of their conversation. Ginny left him on the couch to go sleep. Seamus re-read Dean’s letters many times that night. He traced the lion with his finger, remembering how skilled Dean was with a quill.

\-----

In the following month, he kept the precious letter always within reach, occasionally turning it back to its original Daily Prophet clipping form in order to conceal it better. The paper was turning brittle. The edges were torn and it was stained with ink. The lion still stood fiercely in the corner, although it had stopped breathing fire. Seamus had tried to be careful but when you carried something everywhere with you the chances of that thing decaying multiplied.

“Found it,” Ernie Macmillan said, turning the volume of the radio higher up.

They’d gotten used to listen to Potterwatch together, in the Room of Requirement. Some girls always held hands for support when they announced the deaths, afraid that they would hear a familiar name. Seamus couldn’t deny that he might have sought comfort in the same way if Dean had been there to provide it for him. Holding onto Neville would just be weird and clammy.

“...and Romulus, let’s take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network News and Daily Prophet don’t think important enough to mention.”

There was a pause where everyone went rigid and moved to the edge of their seats. Seamus unconsciously squeezed Dean’s letter. Lee Jordan’s voice filled the room that had become heavy and quiet.

“It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell.”

Seamus stopped breathing. A few girls were crying, others had turned around to look at him, Neville opened his mouth to say something but closed it when Lee Jordan’s voice continued to resonate in the Room of Requirement.

Seamus read the crumpled letter over, as if he hadn’t memorized every word by then. The names matched; Cresswell and Tonks.

Lee Jordan went on to say that they had no news of the whereabouts of ‘Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin’ and told them of Dean’s parents’ and sisters’ desperation to hear from him.

The younger students shuffled about and whispered to each other as they looked at him, unsure of what to say. Neville came over to offer him a rugged pat on the back and a few girls hugged him –he didn’t respond to any marks of affection he was shown.

They had condemned him to death, Seamus realised. To them, Dean was already dead and gone.

He got an urge to scream at them and as he looked down to regain control of his emotions, he saw his hands trembling. His vision was blurry, not because of tears, but a particular kind of exhaustion and anger he’d never felt before but could somehow recognised.

“Shay,” Neville started but he was pushed back.

“I’ll write to his parents about the letters.” He said plainly.

A few people who’d gathered around him exchanged worried looks. Neville seemed unsure if he should speak again.

“The letter is months old.” Ginny said. “Don’t give them false hope,”

Seamus glared at her. “Why would it be false?” He asked darkly. “I’ll write to them and tell them what I know. Aberforth must know a way to send it through Muggle post.”

No one else dared say anything. Even Ginny had backed down. They left him alone, occasionally sending a concerned glance or a sad smile his way. Lavender and Parvati couldn’t stop crying.

He cursed at all of them.

When Potterwatch was over, he didn’t stick around for the usual group hug and consolation talks, preferring to make his way to the Common Room by himself so he could think.

Seamus wasn’t really angry anymore, nor was he sad. He felt neutral. An incredible kind of neutrality that protected him from any emotions he could have been feeling.

Neville came back earlier than usual, probably worried about his friend and roommate. As soon as he stepped in, he sat on the edge of Seamus’ bed.

“I know you think we’re awful for thinking Dean is already gone,” He said.

“Yeah,” Seamus folded the parchment he’d just written on. The letter to the Thomas family was short, straight to the point and omitted the date Seamus had gotten Dean’s letter.

“But you have to be ready for the worst, Seamus.” He said. “It’s war. People will die.”

“Not Dean,”

“Could be anyone. Could be Dean.”

“But it’s not,” Seamus replied off pat.

Neville sighed. He knew he wouldn’t win against Seamus’ stubbornness, not many could. And one of the few who could –with much coaxing and patience—was the very subject of the dispute.

“Believe what you will,” Neville said, going to his side of the dormitory. “Do you want some Dreamless sleep?” He asked, pulling a bottle out of his nightstand. “Mme. Pomfrey is giving hosts out to students these days.”

Seamus shook his head. “Haven’t got a need for it.”

Neville shrugged and went to bed without changing his clothes. He’d taken the habit to sleep in his robe, merely taking off his shoes to sleep.

He still snored, after all these years. It reminded Seamus of the first few nights at Hogwarts, when he’d sneak through Dean’s curtains and ask if they could talk for a bit because he missed his mum and couldn’t sleep. Dean had been a good sport about it, even though his eyelids were so heavy he more than once fell back asleep in the middle of Seamus’ stories.

He looked over at the empty bed next to Neville’s, then at Neville who hadn’t drawn his curtains properly, but who was deeply asleep. Seamus stood up quietly and walked over to the empty bed, sitting on its bouncy mattress.

He braced himself and opened the old drawer of his friend’s night stand. There was an old Quidditch book in it –the one he’d never finish reading as Ginny, who’d given it to him, had broken up with him a few days after he’d started—there was also a nice quill he’d used for important essays and there were a few doodles –Crookshanks was the first on top, sketches for Gryffindor banners, a funnily shaped characters Seamus didn’t know, and a fox.

He smiled sadly at them. He’d looked through them before and it usually gave him hope that soon, he’d be able to ask Dean why in the world he wasted magic to animate the messy drawing of a fox. It had stopped moving ages ago, but the first time he went through Dean’s things, the fox had still been sniffing around curiously.

Seamus put his precious letter with the doodles and set them aside. There didn’t seem to be anything else in the drawer and he was about to close it and move back to his bed with the disorderly pile of papers, when he caught something stuck to the wood.

He had to scrape the paper with its nails, it had probably stuck there from the humidity. He brought his legs up on the bed and sat cross-legged, one elbow in the crook of his knee and his head resting on his hand. He turned the paper over. Something got caught in his throat.

It was picture. A fairly old one as it was a bit yellowed and the colours started to fade. A younger version of himself was grinning on it, Ron and Harry were trying to pose as the cool ones, Neville couldn’t decide what to do with his hands, and Dean..., Seamus bit his bottom lip. Dean was smiling, occasionally looking over at picture-Seamus who laughed or Neville who was awkwardly putting his hands in and out of his pockets.

Seamus vaguely remembered Hagrid insisting on taking a picture of them when they were hanging out by the lake at the beginning of their 4th year. He’d said he wished he’d have taken picture of his roommates back in the day, if only to remember their faces.

Doubt flooded over him in a trice. If the others were right and Dean was gone, if his body laid somewhere out in an abandoned forest, if he had been caught and tortured by Snatchers...

Seamus just couldn’t imagine it. Any of it. He refused to and he would continue to refuse for as long as he could.

He could feel the tears he’d been pushing back since he’d heard the news on Potterwatch, or maybe much earlier than that. It had become too much of a habit for him to notice. He tried not to let Neville hear his whimpers and sniffles and wished he’d closed the curtains to put a silencing charm on the bed.

Nobody commented on the redness of his eyes the next day, nor the days after that. He thought it complimented his battered and bruised look quite well.

Neville kept remind him that he should rest and be smart about things, that he should stop trying to get on the Carrows’ bad side for no reason, and that he only had to be brave when he needed to be. Seamus didn’t care. He was angry and disgusted at everything and someone needed to see that he was. The little glimpse of smiles and glint of pride he saw in the eyes of fellow D.A. members whenever he’d stand up to the staff, even for the most trivial of issues, kept him going.

\--------------

It was a few weeks later, after many detention nights and corporal punishment for merely breathing, that he got another strange letter. This time it was in a baby-pink envelope with frilly patterns. He grimaced at it. The beautiful, sparkly owl that had brought it showed off to the other owls by making a few loop-the-loops before leaving the great hall.

He could hear a few Slytherin students mocking him and he flushed red despite being used to the laughter. At least, he was pretty sure the blueish bruises on his face concealed the tint.

The letter inside was written in red ink and pink heart bubbles popped from the words. It was cheesy, tacky and there were a few unusual grammar mistakes. No one he knew would, in their right mind, choose to send him a love letter at a time of war, especially when he looked like he did.

A heart bubble popped near his nose. It smelled of sea water and fish, which was rather odd in a love letter. He’d never considered fish and sea water to be particularly romantic. He felt the paper and it was a rough and strong, but elegant. He’d never touched parchment like that one before.

Forgetting the books he’d taken with him that morning, he ran down the hall. He could hear Filch run behind him, but he wasn’t too worried as the old concierge was barely making any effort to catch students anymore.

Once he made it to the Room of Requirement, he didn’t greet anyone who was in the room that morning, he was already whispering the list of Revealing spells he knew. The one Cho had used wasn’t working and the usual ones merely made the paper a brighter shade of pink.

“Let me see,” Ginny took the paper and felt it with the tip of her fingers. “Setsushi,” She said with a zigzag of her wand.

The paper squiggled from her fingers and started bending and folding in different ways. A few others had come to appreciate the dancing letter that glowed, sparkled and twisted until it resembled a flat flower.

He looked at Ginny in amazement.

“Fleur taught me that last summer,” The flower glided gently down and safely into her hands. “She said they had penpals in Japan and the girls taught them origami enchantments. Figure the dark wizards wouldn’t know much about Japanese schoolgirl origami romance letters.”

She handed the flower to Seamus whose calloused hands took it gingerly, as if he was afraid to break its magic. On each petal was a letter or a word that had been folded to put the true letter together.

 _Sorry if I got you worried,_  
_I want you to know that I’m alright. I’m safe. Please tell my parents. I’ll come join you at school when I can. If something happens, fight on._  
_Love,_  
_D.T._  
_P.S. I hope you liked the letter._

There was a cartoony fox chasing a butterfly from flap to flap.

Seamus didn’t care how much his cheeks hurt when he grinned and the warm tears could glisten down his face all they wanted this time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Postwar talks and other developments.

Dean had spent a long time with his family after the war, assuring them that it was over, that he was okay and that most of his friends were okay, although it was hard to do whenever his little sister found him crying to pictures of people his family had never seen or heard of.

He’d eventually gotten his own flat in London, with his family encouraging him to find a job in that Wizarding World he had somehow become a part of and promising him that they’d be there should he decide to make his living in the Muggle world. His flat was clean, minimalistic, and white, the polar opposite of every Wizarding house he’d been to.

He found a job as a freelance scribe, as odd as that sounded to his modern Muggle ears. His main job was to draw initials in books and cast animating spells on them. It was fun, easy and Flourish and Blotts paid him good money for it as well as recommended him to many authors and editors. After a full year of living with his parents, it was refreshing to stop abiding to their rules in the house, buy whatever he wanted and use magic for menial tasks.

Of course, having his own place meant that he could have Seamus over whenever he wished...or didn’t wish. The boy frequently apparated in his entryway which used to cause Dean quite a fright when he didn’t hear the signature _crack_ sound of the apparition. It had long since become so commonplace that he barely lifted his head when Seamus walked in now.

Sometimes, Dean could remember the round face of the puppy-boy he met in his first year and he could still see memories of it on Seamus’ face. After graduation, his face had lost its blue tint and battered quality. Colours and freckles had bloomed on his cheeks again. Smiles, although few and far in-between at first, had multiplied tenfold in the past months.  
"Have you heard Neville's dating Hannah Abbot," Seamus pushed the door to Dean's flat with his free hand. Every time Seamus came to visit, it seemed like he owned the place. Be it in Dean’s flat or his family house, Seamus made himself at home quicker than Riderick Plumpton could catch a Snitch.

"Yeah, from Ginny,"

"Seriously, that bloke got a ladykiller reputation overnight," Seamus put the plastic bags on the kitchen table, barely lifting an eyebrow when two of them fell to their sides and dropped their content on the flat surface.

Dean laughed heartily. "He's still just Neville though,"

"Last time I checked he was snogging Luna, not some Hufflepuff girl," Seamus spat out angrily. "We fought in the battle too, yeah? Why does he get all the credit?"

"He doesn't. He's just more fanciable I s'pose," Dean said, slowly storing the various food items scattered around the table. Sometimes they went to the Muggle grocery stores together. Seamus always marvelled at how big Tesco or Sainsbury’s were. He made their journey full of surprises and hilarity that put Dean in a good mood.

"How so?" There was a loud thud and Dean looked up to see Seamus sprawled out on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. There was only a thin wall between the living room and the kitchen. Conversations between rooms only required to be a little more loud than usual. With Seamus’ powerful voice, it posed no problem.

"Well, you're hanging out here half the time and the other half you're at your mother's,"

It was true, Seamus seemed to always be in Dean's flat somehow, either through persistent owls or by his constant physical presence.

"What's your point?" Seamus said, clearly puzzled.

"How can you meet girls –or guys, I guess, if you never see them?" Dean asked, putting the last items –milk, 3.25%, for Seamus— in the refrigerator. Seamus stayed silent and didn't budge when Dean walked to the living room and sat down. He had to push Seamus’ legs away to make space.

Dean watched his friend wiggle a little bit, light brown hair dancing around the material of the sofa. His hair was darker than it usually was. Winter always had that effect. His freckles also changed in the winter, they faded, popping back up like daisies in the spring.

“Would you ever date a Muggle?” Seamus said.

“I haven’t really thought about it.” Dean looked at Seamus curiously. He turned on the television. He thought a half-blood so keen on magic like Seamus would have been surprised by the television in Dean’s living room, but it turned out that Seamus’ dad watched quite a lot of it. Seamus had also said that he usually apparated in his living room when he went home, his favourite spot being between the sofa and the television, causing his father to get near heart-attacks and his mother to yell at him to stop acting so much like cousin Fergus who flicked his wand at the most trivial of tasks.

Wriggling his toes under Dean’s thigh because it was cold and he never could bear winter, Seamus continued; “Would you date a witch?”

“I haven’t really thought about that either,” Dean said truthfully.

“Then what HAVE you been thinking about?”

Dean’s eyes were fixated on the television. It was on the travel channel. There was a beach on the screen, but his thoughts were not on cheap Mexico-London flights. “You,” He said, almost too naturally. He’d admitted it to himself a long time ago. The feelings he entertained for Seamus had become something he’d been wanting to discuss. He wasn’t going to reject an opportunity.

Seamus was looking at him. He could feel the stare. His cheeks were heating up. It had felt right to say it, but after the fact, with Seamus distancing his feet from him, he wasn’t sure if he had read the atmosphere wrongly.

“Me?” Seamus laughed shyly. “What have you been thinking about me for?”

Dean could now see that Seamus’ face displayed a lovely shade of red that Dean wished he could buy in Crayola pencil form.

“For a long time now.” He said genuinely. Seamus was looking at him silently. “Yule Ball, D.A., dating Ginny…the entire time, I was…sorta thinking about you much more than any of those things. Same now with dating, and jobs, and family…” Seamus still hadn’t broken the stare, but his face kept its crimson colour. Dean shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t tell what his friend was thinking. “So…I’ve come to the conclusion that...”

Seamus waited some more, but he must have thought it was taking too long because he spoke up suddenly, voice a bit woozy. “What’s the conclusion…?”

“I want you more than those things.” He said, finding himself fairly brave to be able to confess it without stuttering too much.

Seamus let out a shaky breath; he sounded like he was trembling. Dean hoped it wasn’t out of anger. He chanced a glance in Seamus’ direction. It didn’t look like it was.

“You got me already,” Seamus said, after a long period of reflection.

They made each other blush, and Dean thought it was ridiculous that, after all this time and the war and the postwar, he could feel this light-headed and innocent.

Dean was surprised when Seamus, who’d been looking at him like he was hesitating to say something, moved to his side of the couch.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“I’m assuming cuddles are okay,” The other said, placing one of Dean’s arms around himself. He nuzzled his way to Dean’s neck and rested his head around the collar bone.

“It’s not like we didn’t do this at Hogwarts.” Dean noted. “Just didn’t call it cuddling,”

“Hey, that’s what best mates do.”

Dean smiled. “I don’t remember seeing Ron and Harry do this.”

Seamus snickered as an answer. As the laughter gradually stopped, Seamus gained a more serious posture. Dean could feel him slightly tenser against his chest.

“If cuddles are on the table now. What’s the stance on kissing?” Seamus asked, timidly. His hand was slowly leaving Dean’s side where it was hugging him and going up to his neck. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat that had been there since Seamus asked him about dating Muggles.

“The stance is…I haven’t snogged in a while so you better not judge.”

“Do your worst,”

Dean bit back a smile.

They both waited for the other to make a brash first move. Seamus was already so close that a mere arch of Dean’s back would have allowed their lips to touch. As it turned out it was Seamus who was the first to twist his head up and join their lips. Seamus’ hands smelled of strawberries when they slid up to his cheeks.

Dean’s eyes were closed; he could only hear a delightful mix of Seamus’ breath, the shuffling of their clothes as they adjusted position to be more comfortable, and the deep voice of a man describing the top three beaches of Mexico.

Seamus was halfway in his lap when he opened his eyes again. His arms had locked around his neck and he was looking up at Dean with a small, satisfied smile.

“You’re better than Justin,” He said. “You didn’t bite me at least,”

“He bit you?”

“Accidentally,” Seamus added. “He was pretty nervous,”

“Well, he had a lot to be nervous about,” Dean rubbed his palm up and down Seamus’ back. “And you weren’t?”

“F’course not.”

“Hmm…” He laughed under his breath. “I wonder what happened to him after the war,”

Seamus shrugged, a finger mindlessly tracing the edge of Dean’s shirt against the back of neck. “Heard from Ernie that he’s got a job in the Muggle World. In one of those tall buildings with serious looking people. He barely even touches his wand, he said.”

Dean could imagine Justin in a suit, prim and proper, always trying to finish more work that was needed of him by the end of the day. Dean wondered what had tipped the scales in favour of the Muggle World.

“You’re thinking,”

“Yeah,” He licked his lips and Seamus took it as a cue to kiss him again. He let Seamus do it, Dean still rummaging through his brain.

He wanted to delve more into the question of what their relationship even was at this point. He wanted to know if they were going to live together, if they were supposed to tell people they were best mates who were kissing and holding hands now, if the Wizarding world shared the same complicated views as Muggles when it came to same-sex couples, if Seamus had ever thought about him in that way before he mentioned it...

Seamus was looking at him curiously now.

“Still thinking about me?” He laughed.

Dean grinned. “Can’t help it.” He said, landing a peck on Seamus’ nose. The latter immediately grimaced and let his whole weight fall onto Dean’s chest to hide his face.

“What am I signin’ up for?” He cried desperately, holding Dean tighter. “You’re so full of corn.”

Dean laughed heartedly. No matter what the answers to all his questions were, he’d always chosen Seamus over everything else and he doubted that was going to change any time soon. With Seamus’ eyes overflowing with affection in front of him, he ventured to believe that maybe Seamus had always chosen him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I feel like I crammed too many of my Dean/Seamus headcanons in a single story, but I hope you could enjoy it!


End file.
